


In This Life We Meet Again

by Joel7th



Series: Some Call It Fate [3]
Category: The Yin-Yang Master: Dream of Eternity, 阴阳师 | Yīn Yáng Shī | The Yin-yang Master (Movies - Guo Jingming)
Genre: Bo Ya is confused (kinda), M/M, Modern Setting, Red String of Fate, Reincarnation, Sequel, Zhu Que is one lazy god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 08:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joel7th/pseuds/Joel7th
Summary: In this life it is our shallow fate that tears us apartIn our next life let us tie our strings together once againLyrics from Tomb of Infatuation (sung by Deng Lun)—Set in modern day but in the same universe as the other fanfics of this series, this story can be read independently (although you may wonder why He Shou Yue is here and who ‘The Twins’ are).
Relationships: Bo Ya | Minamoto no Hiromasa/Qing Ming | Abe no Seimei, Zhong Xing/Fang Yue
Series: Some Call It Fate [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203611
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	In This Life We Meet Again

Bo Ya squinted his eyes at the sight before him, then unfolded the note in his hand again. He double-checked everything written in feminine cursive — the number, the street, the district, the city and its ZIP code(?), and even a brief description of its surroundings his thoughtful sister had added just in case. This had to be the right place, unless he had somehow stumbled into a portal to land in a parallel world.

At several points in his thirty-year life, Bo Ya had wished that he could stumble into a portal to land in a parallel world due to how often he felt estranged from this world, this era. An outcast. A fish out of water who could not determine whether he should stay and suffer in company or return alone.

That persistent thought was one of the reasons for which Bo Ya had arrived at this place. When he had heard the word “temple” from Fang Yue, he had envisioned a huge temple teeming with people from all walks of life, and the air was constantly fogged with all the incense sticks, some as big as his wrist, burning at any hours of the day. The way his sister had gushed about it surely made it sound grand, and Bo Ya knew her to be a person without a flair for exaggeration. That was why he had not anticipated to be greeted with a derelict site humbly tucked in a corner of a small, old street, nestled between twin cherry blossom trees that appeared to impale the azure sky, an extremely rare view in this era. The wooden gate looked worn by several decades’ worth of rain and snow, and it quivered on its rusty hinges like a crone’s teeth when a careless wind passed by.

“You have come to the right place.”

A masculine voice from out of nowhere startled Bo Ya, causing him to whip his head around when he was in the middle of pulling out his phone from his jeans pocket to call Fang Yue. The moment his gaze landed on the speaker, he was immediately stunned, any complaints or queries on the tips of his tongue vaporizing at once.

A question for everyone: What would you do if you saw a young man with excessively long hair who was dressed in the sort of costume that was found in either studios or those period dramas ranging from pure historical to wild fantasy and everything in between?

Bo Ya did not actively seek out those dramas when he turned on the television but Fang Yue was an avid fan and since they were living under the same roof, he often found himself in front of the screen trying to make sense of all those complicated love triangles (sometimes rectangles).

Back to the question. If you were a normal person with functional common sense like Bo Ya at any other moment, you would politely ask the newcomer whether you have unwittingly intruded a movie set and then promptly excuse yourself and make your exit.

Bo Ya, with his perfectly functional common sense, did no such thing. Rooted on the spot, he was staring at the young man in a manner that would be considered fairly rude by most. He could not help it, even when he himself was aware of his breach of courtesy; it was not every day that he had come face to face with a person wearing period costume, complete with hairdo and makeup, and more importantly, the face of his brother-in-law slash direct boss at the precinct. Anyone put in Bo Ya’s shoes would likely have similar reaction, so his impolite act was for the most part excusable; after all, facing a real-life doppelgänger of someone close to him guaranteed a temporary detachment from reality.

Still, reality would not be ignored for too long and after a while, it would rapt on his mind’s door to remind him of the situation and that he should do something, anything, instead of being a funny-looking prop with wide eyes and mouth agape. The young man approached him, donning a faint half-smile that gave away absolutely nothing of his intentions. Maybe it was due to his long, multi-layered robe but the way he moved toward Bo Ya seemed less like walking and more like gliding on the ground, which churned Bo Ya’s insides with enough dread that his hand reached into his leather jacket out of habit and disappointingly found an absence of his trusted firearm. Of course he was not allowed to carry a gun off-duty and at this moment, Detective Yuan Bo Ya was no different than a civilian.

Bo Ya took a quick look at his feet. The sight of them firmly on the ground did not do much to ease his wariness.

“You have come to the right place,” the young man repeated, clearer this time, seemingly unperturbed by Bo Ya’s stare.

If his appearance and weird movements had not raised enough suspicion, this statement surely did.

“How do you know I’ve come to the right place?” Bo Ya asked, narrowing his eyes. “I haven’t said anything. I could just be a lost and confused passerby.”

The young man’s smile deepened. Upon closer inspection, he appeared much younger than Bo Ya’s brother-in-law, who would turn thirty-eight in a few more weeks. That crossed out the possibility of a long-lost twin, which Bo Ya had to admit was pretty far-fetched already.

“Nobody gets lost here,” the young man replied. “In fact, everyone showing up here is not without a purpose.”

Bo Ya resisted the urge to scoff. In his career he had had the unfortunate to encounter several of those who had crafted for themselves an enigmatic air by cryptic speech just like this guy. Experience had taught him that they either turned out to be frauds or belonged to some cult, many times both.

This guy looked like he could be both.

“Fang Yue must have told you about this temple,” the guy said, pointing to a plank of wood above the gate which had somehow escaped Bo Ya’s inspection at the beginning. The letters were mostly intelligible, too faded by the seasons and even if they were new, he doubted he could read them because they were written in ancient script entirely foreign to the vast majority of the modern society save a handful of scholars. More than that rotting plaque, what captured Bo Ya’s attention was the mention of his sister’s name.

“You know Fang Yue?”

He was careful not to reveal their relationship yet.

“Your older sister, isn’t she? Her picture and name are on your phone screen. I remember her as the last visitor we had.”

“Do you happen to know Zhong Xing as well?” Bo Ya asked, turning off the screen and shoving his phone into his pocket, his eyes surveying the guy’s face as he did.

“I think I have met a couple of ‘Zhong Xing’s,” the guy replied, his expression unchanged, which helpfully revealed nothing to the detective. Not even a hint of recognition. “Not sure which one you mean.”

“One who looks like you?” Bo Ya decided to press.

The young man blinked once, twice, his gaze unmoving. “I cannot recall having met such a person,” he said with a light shrug. “You seem to have some doubt. How about coming inside and we will see how much will get cleared?”

“Well, the run-down condition of your so-called temple and the way you’re dressed are not exactly trust-inducing,” Bo Ya said, gesturing vaguely at his form. “So, excuse me for having a few trust issues.”

The young man cast a brief glance at his costume, furrowing his eyebrows for a second as if trying to figure out what was wrong with it and failing, then smiled at Bo Ya. “Would it induce a little more trust if I told you my name? A name, after all, is the shortest form of a spell.”

The young man’s reason was as ludicrous as most things coming out of his lips, and yet it struck a chord with Bo Ya. It felt like immersed in a sense of déjà vu because in his head there was an undeniable piece of memory echoing that very sentence; Bo Ya could see it within his grasp, close enough to brush the tips of his fingers against the surface if he reached out, and when he did, tentatively as if afraid to spook it, it scooted just a little to the left or right and evaded his hand. With a mental frustrated grunt, he gave up.

“It’s certainly helpful to have a name and an address in the event of an investigation or even an arrest.”

The young man giggled into his overly long sleeve, having caught the implication. “My name is He Shou Yue, ‘He’ in ‘the crane’, ‘Shou’ in ‘to protect’ and ‘Yue’ in ‘the moon’. Should I take a sheet of paper and write it down for you?”

Bo Ya scoffed. “I can write it just fine, thank you.”

He Shou Yue bowed and extended his arm in an invitation gesture. Bo Ya rolled his eyes, his impression that the guy must be an actor once again cemented.

“If you would follow me inside, Master Bo Ya.”

Bo Ya visibly cringed at the title newly attached to his name, so much so that he forgot he had not told He Shou Yue his name.

_To be continued_

**Author's Note:**

> In this story I’ve used the surname “Yuan” (源) for Bo Ya. The Chinese character for “Yuan” is also the Kanji for “Minamoto” (Minamoto no Hiromasa).
> 
> Bo Ya and Fang Yue are siblings, which makes her Yuan Fang Yue, although this is not much relevant to the plot.
> 
> This is the same He Shou Yue as in Some Call It Fate. He’s all grown up now :) (but still a brat). 
> 
> This was supposed to be a one-shot (a rather long one) but I decided to split it for easier digestion.


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